


particularly good finders

by guardianoffun



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 19:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/pseuds/guardianoffun
Summary: Morse drags Jakes into a secondhand shop, Jakes gets revenge by making Morse try on all manner of dodgy 60's fashion! Cute fluffy times ensue.





	particularly good finders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imaginationtherapy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/gifts).

> me and imaginationtherapy were talking abt how cute morse in jumpers is... it's the good content!! dont mind me also giving jakes a thing for morse in dresses, like who doesnt wanna see him in a skirt? 
> 
> also inspired by jasmiinitee's recent work bc HHHHH good content there too!! 
> 
> title entirely lifted from a very potter musical lol peter jakes is a jigglypuff pass it on

Jakes had intended the afternoon to be dedicated to finding Morse a suit that actually fit him, probably a visit to a tailor to show how you were supposed to wear clothes. Morse had a habit of just throwing them on and it touched every one of Jakes’ fashionable nerves to see it. So they had been in a few department stores, Morse begrudgingly agreeing he looked good in whatever Jakes had him try on, and then turning his nose up at the price. They left with a few new shirts at least, and a promise that Morse would let Jakes buy him a whole suit for his birthday. 

They left the highs treet, measly shopping bag looped over Jakes’ shoulder, and were headed for the bus stop, when Morse tugged on his sleeve. Stopping so suddenly he nearly collided with a post box, Jakes turned to chide Morse when he caught sight of those eyes looking all bright and mischievous. 

“What Morse?” he groaned, not sure where this was going but not entirely against a little (mis)adventure. Morse lead him by the wrist down the alley they had stopped at, to a slightly shabby corner of Oxford Jakes wasn’t sure he’d ever found himself in. There was a cafe on one side of the square, one old man chain-smoking as he leafed through a paper. Opposite sat the only shop in sight, if that’s indeed what it was. It was more like a renovated house front, the sign stuck to the bay window the only indication the place was open to the public. It proclaimed itself a secondhand shop. Jakes groaned. Ahead, he heard Morse chuckle. 

“Why do I want to go and rifle through someone else’s old crap?” he whined, and Morse pinched his wrist for it. 

“They have all sorts in places like these, it’s where I got half the things in my flat.” Jakes rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, why am I not surprised?” He got another pinch for that, and then Morse dropped his arm, reaching instead for the door. A bell tinkled overhead as they passed through, cutting through the low babble of a radio, and the overwhelming yet indescribable scent of  _ old  _ hit them. An ancient looking woman with glasses thicker than seemed possible, nodded at them as they entered, too focused on her radio program to pay much attention to them. Morse took a deep breath, smiled to himself and headed straight for the table in the corner that held a groaning box of records. Jakes fought the urge to roll his eyes again. He left Morse to peruse the stacks, he was probably ignoring anything remotely fun and scouring for more of that Wagner bloke. 

Instead Jakes let his eyes drift across the rest of what the shop had on offer. He peered at the spines of a few books, most of them curling copies of school texts, though there was a pile of what looked like bad erotic fiction hidden amongst them. Jakes snatched one up, bit back a laugh at the blurb, but didn’t put it back. 

There was a stack of shelves beside the books that held all manner of knick-knacks; candlesticks, tea cups, cutlery and the like. The obligatory creepy doll sat just at eye level, of course, feet dangling ominously enough Jakes decided to bypass the whole section. Past the shelves, the floor opened up into a wider aisle that was absolutely heaving with clothes. If there was any sort of organisational system to it, Jakes couldn’t work it out - and he was a detective. Formal gowns were crammed in beside nightwear, a bundle of swim trunks either side of winter coats and enough mixed patterns it almost made Jakes’ eye water. He hated the whole mess almost instantly, but couldn’t help himself walking forward. His hands sought fabric out of their own accord, pulling out a warm red turtleneck, strikingly similar to one he owned - and had paid a pretty penny for. Here this was, much the same only slightly worn, and more than half of what he had paid. Grumbling, he shoved it back on the rack, searching instead for something he didn’t own. 

A dress caught his eye, not his usual outfit of choice, but he had seen the same one in store not two hours ago. Hardly a stain on it, and when he checked the label, it was legit. He held it out, olive green fabric falling out to reveal [a pretty floral design](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/363243526189763401/?nic=1), with a high neckline and a short hemline. Still, it was a long thing, made for a woman with long legs presumably. Shaking it out though, Jakes couldn’t help but peer over his shoulder at Morse. With his thin hips, he’d probably fit right into it. All sorts of thoughts flitted through his head at that, the book burning a little hotter in his hand. 

Deciding to put both the dress and book into a pile that was apparently becoming things-to-toruture-Morse-with, Jakes tugged his sleeves up; he had more finds to make. He rummaged through the hodgepodge piles, every once in a while finding something eye catching, and throwing it over his shoulder. By the time Morse had moved up behind him, he had a thick knitted jumper in hand, in a rather interesting mix of [orange, beige and brown tones](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/235313149254565306/?autologin=true&nic=1). There was a pattern in there somewhere, he was sure, but he had picked it up more for the soft feel of it than anything else. 

“I’ve never seen anything so hideous,” Morse said, startling him into spinning around. He batted Morse with the sleeve. 

“I know, it’s awful,” he said, plucking the record Morse held in has hands up, and shoving the jumper in its place. “Stick it on then.” Morse stuttered, shook his head in protest but Jakes would have his revenge for being dragged into the shop. He poked at Morse’s side incessantly, smirk slowly stretching across his face. Morse was in one of his lighter moods, and it was times like these Jakes could convince him to do something a little un-Morse-like. When Morse realised Jakes wasn’t giving up on this he relented, peeling his coat off and throwing it at Jakes who watched gleefully as Morse pulled the monstrosity over his head. 

It was far too big for Morse, at least around the middle. It hung baggy around his waist, sleeves a few inches too long, meaning Morse was rolling them up. He waggled his fingers as they brushed the soft fabric and he hummed. 

“At least it’s warm,” he said, hands moving to grab at the excess wool at his sides. “It doesn’t fit though, I look ridiculous.”

Jakes struggled to respond for a second; he didn’t think Morse looked silly. There was something striking about seeing Morse like this, looking more school teacher than detective, that did something to Jakes. He swallowed, somehow feeling very soft and quiet hard all at the same time. 

“Uh, yeah,” he croaked. “Maybe not that one then.” He spun on his heel, burying his burning face in the clothes so he could pull himself together. He tried not to listen to the sound of Morse taking the jumper off, to ignore the Pavlovian response his mind had to it. Instead he busied himself finding more jumpers for Morse, who was always in need of warmer wear as Mrs. Thursday often reminded him. After a little digging, he managed to pull out a couple of slightly less offensive looking options. 

He had Morse try them all on, one by one. There was a grey cardigan, vetoed on the grounds only middle aged men should wear them, and early thirties was  _ not  _ middle aged. A cream cable knit, only slightly greying actually fit Morse pretty well, but Morse wasn’t having it, claiming it smelt just a little too strange. Jakes last find was a low cut v-neck, in [a sort of burnt umber](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/795096509190139113/). As soon as Morse pulled it over his head, Jakes knew he had found the one. As dubious as he’d been about the colouring, it actually looked quite good on Morse. Against the white of his shirt, and the milky white of his hands it offered a warm contrast that made Jakes want to sweep him up and hold him close. 

“This one’s not too bad I suppose,” Morse said, ducking his head as he looked around for a mirror. Jakes followed behind as he found one lain up against a bookshelf, watching as Morse turned this way and then that, inspecting. He ran his fingers over the sleeves and then met Jakes’ eyes in the mirror. 

“What do you think?” 

Jakes ran his eyes the length of Morse’s body. He wanted nothing more than to lean in and pepper the back of his neck with kisses, but that being impossible, he settled for a small smile. 

“You look good in it, you should get it.” He inched forward, as close as he could and whispered against Morse’s shoulder. “So I can take you out of it.” He got a gentle nudge to the ribs, but it was worth it to see the flirty smile it brought to Morse’s face. He pulled the sweater off, and dropped it into Jakes’ waiting arms. He raised an eyebrow as Jakes collected up his other purchases, but said nothing. He couldn’t judge too much, there was still a pair of stockings in his draw somewhere. 

Snatching up the record Morse had picked out, some opera with a name Jakes didn’t recognise, he dropped the mismatched pile onto the shopkeepers desk, passing over his change and offering up a few coins for the charity tin. The woman smiled at him for that, bagging up and sending the pair on their way with a cheery wave. 

Stepping out of the shop was strange; it felt as though they’d been wandering around for hours, but it could barely have been thirty minutes. The quiet calm of the shop was broken by the sound of traffic and people once they were out on the cobbles again, and Jakes was almost saddened by it. The little time warp had surprised him in its quaint charm and as they strolled back through the busy streets, he made the decision the pair of them would just have to visit again. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks yall for reading!!


End file.
